


Four Vytal Festivals Qrow and James Spent Together and Their One Ordinary Day

by Storyqueen4444



Category: RWBY
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Long Ass Get-Together, M/M, Still bad at tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 01:18:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7338730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storyqueen4444/pseuds/Storyqueen4444
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heartless, cold, a tin-man...brainless, dumb, a useless drunk...</p>
<p>James and Qrow have been called such and more their entire lives--sometimes by each other. Most of the time, they prefer it that way, prefer not to let anyone too close so that they can get hurt like so many times before.</p>
<p>But with each Vytal Festival Tournament, every time they talk to each other, a little bit more of that protective armor comes off. And each begins to ask...do they really hate each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Vytal Festivals Qrow and James Spent Together and Their One Ordinary Day

**Author's Note:**

> So I suck at summaries...
> 
> WARNINGS: so there are a few hints at suicide and rape in the second part, and I didn't know how to tag that, but I desperately don't want to trigger anybody. There's also lots of heavy drinking on Qrow's part. If you readers think I missed anything, please politely correct me in the comments, and again so sorry if I messed up!
> 
> Now that that's out of the way: to make a long story short, I have had a terrible year this year (my friend said it once and I'll say it here: 2k16 is kicking everyone's ass), and hope to cheer myself up by posting something that's been in my folder for a while now. Hope you all like it!
> 
> And if you want to talk about any headcannons or OCs I've included in this, please feel free to ask and comment! I would LOVE to discuss them! :D

**I**

 

Qrow didn't like the new guy.

 

General James Ironwood, leader of both the Atlas military and headmaster of Atlas Academy—the man had too much ambition for Qrow’s taste. And his metal eyebrow thing was so stupid looking!

 

Though not stupid enough that it didn't stop the huntsman from checking the unbelievably tall man out: tight, form fitting military clothes that outlined a very nice butt (once he took off the cloak), a jaw like chiseled marble, and cobalt eyes that would probably look gorgeous blown out in lust.

 

Maybe even prettier than the look Qrow was receiving now, those brilliant eyes glaring daggers from across Ozpin’s office. “You must be joking,” he growled, and damn, what Qrow wouldn't give to hear that in bed. “We can't just transfer troops like that! They're there for a reason, Branwen: they're the only thing keeping that village from falling to the Grimm!”

 

“That's why we only transfer half the troops there and have them meet up with a couple of experienced huntsman in the next village,” Qrow said haughtily. After all, this Jimmy kid had only recently learned of the true dangers of the world, the enemy they faced. Oz was totally going to side with the longer known of the two men. “The village won’t fall just because a few soldiers have to hitch a ride over, especially if the reports of the Grimm waves getting easier to fight are accurate.”

 

“And what if an Alpha or an Ursa Major get thrown into the mix? A King Taijitu, god forbid a Nevermore?” Ironwood pointed out. “That village barely has enough soldiers there to defend them as it is; I will not allow lives to be lost over some stupid relic—”

 

“Well it's a good thing you're not the one in charge here, isn't it, Jimmy?” Qrow finally snapped. “Ozpin is the one in charge, and he—”

 

“And he agrees with the general in this matter,” said their enigmatic leader, interjecting at last. Qrow whipped his head to look at the headmaster, utterly surprised. “Your mind is thinking correctly, Qrow: numbers are a priority if this mission is to be a success. However, _time_ is not a concern here. If we were in a tight schedule, perhaps it would be worth risking the lives of our people. But we have all the time in the world—therefore, it isn't necessary.”

 

Grabbing his ever present hot coffee (which always seemed to be full, Qrow noticed), Ozpin exited his chair in favor of staring out his giant window to look over Vale. “We can send troops from Vale, as well as a pair of hunters, all in one ship. The relic has been there for several centuries Qrow; I'm sure it can wait a few more days for us to retrieve it.”

 

He took a sip from his mug. “Perhaps we should send Port and Oobleck? They haven't seen any action in months, and Bart’s archeological knowledge would come in handy on such a mission.”

 

“If they can stop having eye sex long enough to work,” Qrow said drily, huffing against the pillar he was leaning on.

 

Glynda glared at him from where she stood by Ozpin’s desk, while the other two men simply ignored his bitterness. “Make sure enough of the soldiers have decent control over their aura,” Ironwood recommended. “They won't get far if they can't defend themselves from a fatal blow or two.”

 

Qrow grit his teeth at how _not_ smug the bastard was that Oz had sided with his suggestion over Qrow’s. Sure, Qrow wouldn't have liked it if he'd been an ass about it either, but this emotionless jerk didn't even appear satisfied with gaining Ozpin’s approval!

 

They went on like that for a while, Qrow fuming silently as he sipped from his flask, until the sun set and the shattered moon rose above them. Ozpin then dismissed the two men, saying he wanted to discuss something with Glynda. If the purple-caped professor was single and even remotely attracted to anyone but women, Qrow would have made a lewd quip. But no, the two old friends were the perfect example of platonic love between two people of differing genders. Oz had joked once that, in a past lifetime, the two might have been lovers; Glynda had rolled her eyes and called him a sap.

 

As it was, Qrow merely slumped against the elevator wall and downed more of his booze, stiff silence the only sound within the damned metal box. Qrow was thankful he'd refilled the flask before coming to Beacon. He _really_ hated tight spaces. But Oz was the only man outside of his own team that the huntsman had ever trusted with his little feathery secret, so jumping out the window was unfortunately not an option (even if it would be so worth it to see Goodwitch and Ironwood’s jaws drop).

 

So here he was, stuck in a death trap with the new guy he still didn't like.

 

He sized the tree-sized Ironwood (ha, puns) up: his body stood stock still, but not in uncomfortable stillness, no not for the strict military man. Those Atlesian soldiers, always with that icy pole up their asses. Ironwood’s face was just as cool and professional as his thick body, staring at the dark gray of the elevator interior like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

 

Then again, thought Qrow, maybe these damn robots really did think shit like that was fascinating.

 

“So,” Qrow finally spoke, getting sick of this uncomfortable silence. “Not going to rub it in?”

 

Instead of vocalizing a response, the general just raised his two right eyebrows in question—and yeah, Qrow still thought that little silver strip was stupid. “About Oz favoring your idea over mine?”

 

To Qrow’s surprise (and annoyance) the larger man just shrugged his question off. “While I am pleased that Ozpin trusted me enough to listen to my advice,” he said calmly. “It's not really worth fixating over: we're both here to do our job and protect the people of Remnant. We have different ideas and beliefs of how that should be accomplished, and there's nothing wrong with that.”

 

Frowning, Qrow took a much larger swig of his drink. What did it take for the man to at least show some sort of emotion? Heartless Atlas tin-man, didn't even drop his mask when it sounded like he was insulting someone.

 

“And just what do you mean by ‘different ideas and beliefs,’ Jimmy?”

 

“It's general,” Ironwood said patiently. “And it's nothing personal, I simply noticed a difference in our methods and ways of thinking, something every individual should have. I care about protecting the people, and you care about speed and victory, even at the cost of civilian lives. There’s nothing wrong with either of these strategies, as well as faults in both, depending on the situation.”

 

This calm façade was really beginning to piss Qrow off. “So what, you think I'm just some reckless idiot?” _Just like everyone else does,_ an evil little voice spoke at the back of his mind. And, whoa, what the hell, he shouldn't be sober enough to hear that side of him. He needed more booze.

 

“While I wouldn't say you're an idiot, I definitely would say I disagree with your tactics and plan of attack in most events.”

 

“So you do think I'm an idiot!”

 

A cynical flicker of those beautiful blue eyes—finally, some sort of show of emotion from the man! “That isn't what I meant, and I'm sorry if—”

 

It was at that moment that the elevator decided to finally land on the ground floor with a loud ding. Ironwood sighed exasperatedly as the doors opened. “Look, Mr. Branwen, I'm sorry if I unintentionally insulted you, but I really need to get to my hotel. I have a big day tomorrow as well.” Without even a courteous glance back, the infuriating man walked out into the CCT lobby. “Good night.”

 

Furious, Qrow stuffed his nearly empty flask away and followed after the stuffed up headmaster. “That’s it?” he said in a snarl of disbelief as they exited the tower, entering the crisp night air. “You just give me some half-assed apology and leave? I'm not even sure if you're that ‘professional,’ or simply that heartless.”

 

And that—finally—got a reaction out of the general, the man halting his stride and stock still at the words. Qrow felt some sort of grim sense of triumph when he spotted the gloved right hand clench in anger.

 

Turning on his heel, Ironwood glared Qrow in the face, eyes alight with rage and face no longer stony or cold. “If that’s how you think of me, then so be it,” he spat. “But you certainly have a lot of nerve calling _me_ heartless when you're the one who was willing to sacrifice an entire _village_ of people in favor of taking the quick and easy way out.”

 

“So you do think I'm reckless,” Qrow said with a pleased smirk. He had to smile, had to hide his true feelings on the matter. Qrow had learned long ago that letting them see his true emotions on the matter tended to make things worse, especially to people like Ironwood.

 

“You're an arrogant, overconfident drunk,” the general growled, and wow, the sound of that really shouldn't go directly to Qrow’s cock. Maybe Raven was right when she’d called him a masochist. “Who only cares about when the next fight starts and where the nearest bar is.”

 

“Says the man who cares more about his image and comfy Atlas job than getting his hands dirty,” Qrow said as a counter, enjoying the way Ironwood’s eyes nearly burned with anger.

 

The taller man was shaking with the effort it took not to punch Qrow. “You—you—I want to just—”

 

“You want to just what, Jimmy?” the caped warrior said with a smirk, pushing his bangs back in anticipation.

 

*~*~*

 

“God, fuck—yes! Yes, right there!”

 

Qrow wiggled his body, desperate to have those thick, wonderful fingers brush against his prostate once more, but the (surprisingly strong) hand Ironwood kept on his hip limited the amount of movement the huntsman could make. Which was damn near infuriating, seeing as Ironwood was still wearing his extremely well-fitting formal dress in contrast to Qrow’s open shirt and lack of pants.

 

It also made it difficult to shove his dick further into the extremely talented mouth Ironwood seemed to have, because holy crap could that man suck cock.

 

As it turned out, Ironwood had wanted to screw Qrow into his bed, and oh boy, didn't that sound like the beginnings of one of those cheesy porn vids Qrow and Summer had watched to laugh at? It might as well be one of those, considering how quickly he and the general had gone from arguing to making out passionately under the stars—and yeah, that was cornier than popcorn.

 

Qrow barely even remembered the trip up, too drawn into the heated battle of lips, tongues, and teeth. He knew they had to be in Ironwood’s hotel, because 1) Qrow didn't have a hotel and 2) he would never be able to afford a room with such a large, luxurious bed. There had been a moment when he'd thought this wasn't going to happen, a single “oh shit” from Ironwood worrying him a bit, but his questioning face was reassured when a pair of teeth began to nibble and conquer their way down Qrow’s scruffy jaw and collarbone.

 

Not that any of this was truly on the huntsman’s mind, since Ironwood was apparently determined to suck that out through Qrow’s penis. And it certainly felt like it was working.

 

“God dammit Jimmy,” Qrow groaned as a third finger slipped in and avoided pushing that magic button again. “Tease another day, pick up the fucking pace!”

 

After another growl that sent the most amazing vibrations up Qrow’s penis, Ironwood pulled off to glare up at the man he was fingering. “It’s _James_ ,” he corrected viscously, prodding the huntsman’s prostate for emphasis.

 

“Shit, James!” Qrow called out.

 

“Better,” was all Ironwood stated before rewarding his bedmate by returning to his goal of making Qrow scream.

 

After several more minutes of this pleasant treatment, Qrow began to feel the familiar tightening sensation, the pool of heat lighting in his chest.  “Jim—James, I'm gonna cum,” he managed to get out between his moans.

 

Instead of the expected removal of his cock from Ironwood’s mouth, the general increased his suction and bobbed his head down until his sharp nose was buried in the thin curls enveloping Qrow’s groin. When he swallowed, the caped warrior let out a loud noise that sounded extremely similar to a crow’s caw, releasing seed down Ironwood’s throat in waves as he rode his orgasm.

 

A satisfied grin had alighted on Qrow’s face, gasping from the force of his climax. He was only vaguely aware of a warm mouth leaving his softening penis, almost like feeling it from a distance. He smirked wider as he spread his legs more. Just wait for it, he thought. Soon he'll be fucking you into the mattress and you'll be having your second orgasm! Best unexpected hate sex ever—

 

With a jolt, the sudden feeling of a cool, wet cloth on Qrow’s stomach, thighs, and ass, surprising him out of his afterglow. And god dammit, that fucking stony mask was back on the Ironwood’s bastard of a face, showing no trace of emotion—or saliva and semen, meaning he'd probably washed his face while he'd been gone.

 

Qrow was quite honestly shocked. “That’s it?” he asked when Ironwood returned from the bathroom to put the rag away.

 

“Yes” was his only answer.

 

“But…but what about you?”

 

“What about me?” Dear god, this man was so utterly confusing.

 

“The purpose of sex is for both partners to achieve ejaculation, Jimmy,” Qrow said in exasperation. “Which you didn't achieve, preferably by pounding my ass.”

 

Only the faint blush at his language both lewd and clinical betrayed any hint of emotion from the man. “It doesn't necessarily need to be that way, Mr. Branwen. Some people are fine with treating their partner while feeling no arousal or attraction themselves.”

 

Qrow could only stare at the man, confused and trying to make sense of the situation. A thought occurred to him. “Shit, are you ace?” he finally asked after a brief period of silence. The question seemed to surprise the general, eyebrow twitching in thought. Right now it was the only thing Qrow could think of, remembering when Raven had talked to him about her sexuality. How sometimes sex with Tai and Summer was just too squicky for her, preferring to help them cum rather than peak herself.

 

If Ironwood was similar…“Listen, if I did something you were uncomfortable doing or something, I'm sorry, I'll get out of your hair and won't ever make a come on at you again, I swear—”

 

“No, no,” Ironwood quickly interjected. “I'm not asexual, though I'm pleased you take that into consideration. Not many do.” Getting up from the bed, he leaned down to pick up the huntsman’s discarded belt, pants and weapon. “It’s really no big deal, and while I had a nice time, it's about time for you to go Mr.—”

 

“If you call me ‘Mr. Branwen’ one more time after we’ve had sex I will punch you,” Qrow said seriously, ignoring the items being handed to him. “Look, I may not like you, but I at least respect you enough to help you get off—”

 

“Oh, how very respectful,” the taller of the two said sarcastically, temper beginning to simmer.

 

“—the point is that I'm not exactly comfortable with you doing all the giving and me doing all the taking,” Qrow tried to explain. “I honestly don't care who catches or pitches or whatever, but I do care if you're healthy or comfortable enough to do this! Which you're obviously not—”

 

“And I'm uncomfortable with some idiot saying they’d like to help me achieve orgasm like it’s some great favor toward me!” Ironwood finally snapped. The words made Qrow flinch, actually wounded by the accusation in his tone. “Look, you had a nice time without having to do pretty much any work, why is this such an issue?”

 

“It's an issue to me because you're making me feel like I just molested a fucking sex robot, you heartless tin-man!”

 

The cold mask didn't just crack; it shattered, leaving a look of hurt and horror in its place.

 

It was quickly replaced by a terrifying rage as the general drew his lips back. “Get. Out,” he snarled, shoving the clothes and sheathed sword into Qrow’s arms. “And hope I never see you in a non-professional setting _again_.”

 

Before he could even apologize or argue—Qrow wasn't sure which—Qrow was pushed out of the bedroom carrying his things, perplexed and ashamed by what had just occurred.

 

*~*~*

**II**

 

Another year, another Vytal Festival.

 

James was happy to have his kingdom host the tournament this year, even more pleased to see his students were not only proceeding very well in the rounds, but clearly having fun. He especially had eyes on team WNDR, led by their very own Winter Schnee. The young woman was one of his best fighters and leaders, a star pupil. Her team had come so far since their disastrous first year, and Ironwood was proud to see that she was not only representing Atlas—but that she and her team had forgiven themselves for what had happened that fateful night.

 

But unfortunately for James, even during the holidays work never ceased. It wouldn't be the first time James had worked late, and it most certainly wouldn't be the last. Still, he really should go to bed soon, especially considering how anything of immediate importance had already been taken care of, but every time he put his scroll down, his mind and body just refused to fall asleep…

 

He just didn't see the point when he was tired all the time. What was the point of even sleeping when he awoke even more tired? It didn't do anything to fill the emptiness in James’ chest, to make him feel something, or to get him back the actual flesh and blood limbs that the damn Ursa had taken the night he’d saved his students. Wouldn’t make them anything instead of these heavy metal monstrosities. It was best he use his time wisely anyway, and what better way to do that than by working himself into exhaustion?

 

He was about to try and rest for the third time when his scroll rang. “Of course,” he sighed, reaching over for the device. He frowned when he read the caller ID. “Hello? Ozpin, what’s wrong?”

 

“ _Oh thank goodness!_ ” his fellow headmaster said in relief. Ironwood jerked his head back at the jubilated shout. “ _I need you to find Qrow, he should be somewhere in Atlas at the moment._ ”

 

The general grit his teeth, but held back any rude comments dancing on the tip of his tongue. He and the huntsman hadn't spoken outside of work since their little dalliance two years previous, and while they had lessened, the feelings of hurt and resentment were still too fresh a wound. James felt ashamed about everything that had happened. Not only had he let Branwen’s words dig under his skin in a way that hadn’t happened in decades, but he’d _slept_ with the man! James still had no idea what in the world possessed him to even take such action in the first place. It wasn't like he could reciprocate such feelings outside of attraction (of which he'd had plenty of, because he’d have to be blind not to be attracted to Qrow), what with his lack of…

 

Shaking himself out of his gloomy thoughts, he refocused back to the task at hand. “May I ask,” James said in his most polite media voice, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What Mr. Branwen had done this time?”

 

“ _It isn't what he has done, it's what he may do,_ ” Ozpin told James, as if that explained what was going on. A static sigh from the other line. “ _This is all my fault, I never should have let him out of my sight or forgotten the damn date—_ ”

 

“I…I'm afraid I don't quite understand, sir,” James said worriedly, a little perturbed by his colleague’s voice and words. “What is so important about today—or tonight, I should say?”

 

“ _That isn't for me to say, general,_ ” the old huntsman stated sorrowfully. James felt the hairs at the back of his neck stick up in concern when Ozpin’s voice softened. “ _Look James, I know you and Qrow don't get along; but please, this is of the utmost importance. I wouldn't be calling at such an hour otherwise._ ”

 

James looked out his window, wondering just what about the scrawny caped warrior had gotten the normally even-headed Ozpin so worked up. “…I'll look for him,” he finally told the Beacon headmaster, mentally wondering “why me?”

 

“ _Wonderful!_ ” Ozpin said in relief. “ _He should be in a bar—which you probably expected—and when you find him, make sure you take away his scythe, his drink, his flask, the knife in his belt, the two in his shoes, his cape—_ ”

 

James dropped his jaw at the…rather specific list his elder rambled off to him. The implications of such items were…frankly terrifying to even imagine. What about today had gotten such a brave and cocky huntsman this way?

 

He hit the streets as soon as Ozpin hung up, dressed in his warmest civilian clothes: turtleneck under a light-blue coat, a beanie over his metal brow, and the bottom of his face wrapped in a scarf. He wouldn't want anyone to recognize him when he was out on such an important mission, and certainly not the lowlifes of the pub Branwen had no doubt holed himself in.

 

He didn't have to wander long to find Branwen; the sound of a bar fight hit his hearing as soon as his boots crunched the snow of the more shady district of Atlas. He saw the huntsman getting thrown out of the dingy establishment just as he turned the corner of a street, feeling a twinge of pity as Branwen landed face-first in the icy snow. James quickly made his way over to where he lay, concerned even further when the obviously drunk man didn't get up immediately.

 

“Come and get some!” Branwen yelled drunkenly. “Y'all er just cowards!”

 

Rolling his eyes, James leaned down to take ahold of one of Branwen’s arms and pull him to his feet. Dull, rusty red eyes squinted up at James at the contact. “Jimmy!” the huntsman slurred once he recognized James. He was grinning wildly. “What're you doin’ here, big baddy?”

 

“I'm here for you, Mr. Branwen,” James grumbled, trying to hold the wobbling man steady. “And it's general.”

 

“Ooh, that sounds lovely,” Branwen cooed. “I'd love to have a taste of your own cock, Jimmy-boy.”

 

James just rolled his eyes. “Can you stand?”

 

“Ah course I can stand, silly billy,” he giggled, only to tip to one side dangerously to contradict his statement. James quickly caught him and set him upright. “Now, leave me to ma pub-crawl! I've almost made it to the end!”

 

Branwen jerked out of James’ hold, only to nearly take another nosedive into the frozen sidewalk. Rolling his eyes in defeat, James easily picked the lighter man up and began carrying him back to his home. “Oh, bridal style!” Branwen said, voice rough. “Jimmy, you do care!”

 

James just sighed in aggravation and proceeded on his way, most definitely not blushing at the kissy faces the drunk was throwing at him. “Just settle down and enjoy the ride,” the general ordered sternly. “And—and no licking my neck, do you know how cold it is out here?!”

 

“You like it,” the damnable man muttered with a smirk, but complied with James’ demands. He actually ended up drifting off during his little trip, clutching at the blue jacket James wore like it was a lifeline. In his state, the Atlesian thought, maybe it was.

 

Since he doubted Branwen had a hotel to stay at, and Ozpin had given him specific instructions about keeping an eye on the distraught man, James reluctantly thought it best to watch the man from the safety of his own home. Also, despite his deep negative feelings about Branwen, he couldn't bring himself to be heartless enough to leave him out here in the cold in such a condition.

 

Not that Branwen would see it that way. Heartless tin-man…even after so long the words still stung. He had been horrified that their little dalliance had revealed that specific secret despite how careful James had been, but further interactions with the man had assured him that Ozpin was still the only person in their little group who knew of his prosthesis. Not that it spared James the pain.

 

They finally made it into his home moments later, the bang of James’ door as he kicked it closed waking Branwen from his nap. “Ooh, nice shhhindig, Jimboree,” said Qrow, drawling out the last word as his eyes flicking around the place with clouded interest. “Lots of shiny.”

 

Lots of shiny, expensive things for the drunk to accidentally break in a drunken daze, James thought to himself. It would most likely be wise to shut a few of them up with the rest of the items he would be confiscating tonight.

 

Like a good soldier, James followed Ozpin’s orders to the letter, making sure any potentially harmful objects were removed from Branwen’s person, careful to distract the intoxicated huntsman with a suggestion to drink some of the water James had brought down to lessen the no doubt brutal hangover Branwen was going to receive tomorrow.

 

He was reaching into Branwen’s vest to remove his flask when the idiot thought it would be a good idea to kiss him. “What do you think you're doing?!” James demanded, flask luckily in hand as he jerked away.

 

“Ah, come on, big boy,” Branwen purred, running his hands down James’ clothes chest in a manner he obviously thought seductive. “Guys like you just love having someone like me to take advantage of. And here you are, feeling me up and reaching down my shirt…”

 

The seam where flesh met metal suddenly felt even colder than usual. “No!” James protested, jumping back. “I—I’m trying to make sure you get better, not—not that!” How could he even entertain the thought of James doing such a thing? Did he really have so little respect for the general?

 

Perplexed and more than a little frightened by such a statement, James gathered the temporarily contraband items and shoved them in a cabinet, locking them away with a coded tumbler.

 

When he came back, a cape-less Branwen had turned over to face the couch, long body curled in on himself in despair. James looked up at the sky with a classic “why me” face. “Mr. Branwen, what's wrong?”

 

James wasn't at all surprised to see the man start crying at the question; Ozpin’s advice had told him the huntsman wasn't exactly a happy drunk. “You don't want me, what else could be wrong!” Branwen sobbed. “Nobody wants me, I'm just a failure to all uh them!”

 

And damn James’ heart. Damn it for making James feel obligated to say something. “Oh, come on Qrow,” he said gently, hoping the informal first name would be soothing. “There are plenty of people who want you—and not just for sex either. What about Ozpin?”

 

“Fuck Ozpin!” Branwen shouted. James was taken aback; Ozpin and Qrow had seemed to be the closest of friends and comrades, with the latter holding a great deal of respect and loyalty for their mysterious leader. “All—all he wants from me is information, information that I have to risk my own shtupid head for. He doesn't care about me or my damn feelings, no one does!”

 

James had no response for that. He knew that wasn't true, otherwise Branwen would just be another frozen body out there in the streets, but what could he say to assure the drunk?

 

He was jolted out of his thoughts as Branwen started speaking again. “He just wants me to be his damn spy,” he sniffled. “And the only people who ever loved me sure as hell don't want me anymore.”

 

That certainly got James’ attention. “What do you mean?” he dared to venture, Ozpin’s ashamed voice at the back of his mind screaming: _Why did I forget the date_?

 

Branwen just ended up blubbering harder. “First the entirety of my team decides ‘hey, let's start fucking but leave Qrow out!’ Because that was the nicest thing ever! And then, Raven—my own sister!—leaves me behind to go do whatever, no word or notice edgewise, leaving me and Tai and Summer and litter Yang all alone. And finally—and then Summer…” His sobs between words grew stronger and louder, until he was barely coherent.

 

James was startled to learn this new knowledge from Branwen. He may have issues of his own, but at least when things had turned darker and drearier than usual since his accident, he'd had his students to encourage and focus him. And to be left behind by your own sister…

 

Branwen’s whimpers called him out of his thoughts once more. The man was limp—near to the point of catatonic—and his shallow, uneven breathing and distant eyes told James he was in the middle of a panic attack.

 

“Hey, hey,” he said softly, pulling Qrow up and running a hand through his surprisingly silky black hair. “Come on, Qrow. Come back to me. I'm here for you, come on. Talk to me, Qrow.”

 

He repeated this mantra until he felt the huntsman’s body loosen, sagging against James’ massive chest in despair. “It's all my fault, it’s all my fault…” he chanted with a tremble in his voice, appeared still able to say.

 

“Come now, none of that,” James tried to assure. “Whatever it was, I'm sure it wasn't your fault, you're a—”

 

“But it is!” Qrow continued to sob. “It's all my fault Summer died, that Tai won't even talk to me anymore. That all I have left to remind me of her is a little girl with her face and eyes!”

 

James froze at that. Branwen had kids? Had a kid, a daughter?! The general felt a surging mixture of sympathy, pity, anger, and jealousy at the thought. How could a man like this have a child when he couldn't? James tried to push the dark thoughts down, trying to focus on comforting his colleague, but only succeeding when—

 

“She looks just like her, got none of Tai’s looks at all…”

 

And then the guilt dragged James back down, doubling his efforts to make the drunk man feel better. “Qrow, it can't be your fault that this Summer died,” he tried to assure calmly. “Was she a huntress?” Branwen nodded. “Then you had no control over her death, the Grimm—”

 

“But I did!” said the huntsman, an insistent hand coming up to fist James’ collar. “I was her partner, I should have been there with her, protected her.” A far off glaze fell over those dull red eyes, and the hand dropped limply to his side. “…I should have died with her…”

 

“Don't say that, Qrow! Listen to me: you are wanted, you're a great man, and Summer’s death was not your fault.” Perhaps using his commanding voice wasn't the wisest plan of action, but James was at a loss. When students came to him for issues they hadn't been drunk, which made it easier for him to listen and for them to take his heed and seek more professional help. It made him feel like a hypocrite since he’d refused any psychological help of his own, but even when Winter had come into his room, tears streaming down her face and a thousand apologies on her lips, James had cared more about his student than even his worn, torn-up body. More than himself.

 

“But. It. Is!” Qrow reiterated. “It was my fault I went out on that stupid mission and got myself hurt, my stupid fault that stupid Nevermore attacked me when I know that they hate me for looking too much like them…my fault she had to go out alone without me at her back.”

 

James tried to shush the rambling man, but the sobbing huntsman just ran over his words. “And now she's gone, and all that's left is this empty sadness and pain and I just…I just wish that I couldn't feel anything.”

 

An icy chill settled over James, tensing as the words crowded around his thoughts like poisonous gas. _Couldn't feel anything, I can't feel anything…_

 

“No you don't!” James rushed, picking Qrow up and spinning him around to face the general. “If you didn't feel anything, you wouldn't be sitting here right now mourning about those you've lost. If you didn't feel anything you wouldn't care so much about Summer, or her daughter, or Ozpin, or even me with my stupid fucking rejection that shouldn't mean anything!”

 

Qrow just stared up at him, confused about why he was being yelled at, most likely. “Do you know how lucky you have to be to do that, to have feel your fucking emotions and be swept up by them? You can feel, you can laugh, and cry and care…” _And I'm not even sure if I can do any of that properly anymore._

 

“Qrow…” James continued. “Just…you care so much. Don't stop caring about the people you love; just stop hating yourself for things you had no control over, please.”

 

“James…” Qrow whispered. The general felt a hand on his cheek—when had his eyes closed?—caressing it like he would a lover, and James leaned into the warmth, wishing desperately he could feel more of it…

 

A loud snore derailed that train of thought pretty quickly, snapping James’ eyes open and leaving him staring down at the now sleeping huntsman.

 

James sighed; of course, how could he forget he was talking to a drunk?

 

Picking the man back up, James placed Qrow in an upright sleeping position, making sure when he inevitably had to throw up he wouldn't choke on his own vomit. James then settled himself into the chair beside the couch, ready to be there for Qrow should he need him.

 

*~*~*

 

There was a shuffling noise coming from somewhere close by, sending all of James’ muscles and gears on alert.

 

When he peeked an eye open to assess the situation, James saw someone very familiar gingerly getting up from his couch, trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake the sleeping general (though it was too late for that now). And it was then that James remembered…

 

“Qrow,” he said into the dark room. The sound of his own name made the huntsman flinch.

 

“Jimmy—general I…” the normally mouthy man tried to say, but he was at a loss for words.

 

James shook his head, cutting the other off silently. He inspected the man he'd taken in: his nose was running, with dark circles like a raccoon mask under his eyes. And unsurprisingly, he looked like absolute shit, most likely from the killer hangover and last nights need to be dragged (twice) over to the toilet for some expected vomiting and weeping.

 

He certainly seemed surprised when James asked “What would you like for breakfast?”

 

*~*~*

**III**

 

Qrow whistled cheerily to himself.

 

He was taking a stroll through the oasis that Shade Academy called home, enjoying the warmth from the sun and the cool, fresh air from the dark waters and palm leaves. Spending days flying through this damn desert had been brutal, especially with his pitch black wings making it twice as hot and sweaty for poor crow-Qrow.

 

It was time for a another Vytal Festival, another long mission from Ozpin that took him away from his home—from his nieces, more importantly.

 

He hummed contentedly at the thought of the two girls. Tai and he had finally made amends, though things were still rough between them. Yang and Ruby were a good knot to hold them together—and god did he adore them. Yang was so much like her father, while Ruby was every bit her mother’s daughter. Qrow loved them so dearly.

 

And none of it would have been possible if Ironwood hadn't picked him up off his two miserable feet that night a couple years ago. There Qrow had been, drunk and barely able to carry his own weight after such a trying outing on top of all the usual shit he carried around the day they’d lost Summer. No one should have given Qrow the time of night, let alone taken him home and made sure he was ok.

 

At least that's what Qrow assumed happened. He didn't remember all the details himself due to the amount of alcohol he'd consumed. And Ironwood hadn't been entirely helpful the next morning, politely kicking him out after breakfast, but whatever they'd talked about while he'd been drunk off his ass had been what Qrow had needed to hear to finally close the gap between him and Tai.

 

The event had certainly improved his relationship with James as well. They got along better in and out of work, had even met up for a few drinks now and again. They mostly talked shop and politics, nothing too deep and personal—but it was leagues away from what they'd had previously. The general had certainly responded better to Qrow’s teasing remarks, though that was mostly in part because Qrow had refused to call him anything but some variation of the man’s boring name—nothing like he had done all those years ago.

 

Qrow didn’t know why he liked making fun of Ironwood. While it was definitely a part of his nature—a rather large part—he had normally shown more restraint towards colleagues and friends. But with Ironwood, there was another part of Qrow that had wanted—no— _needed_ to get under the man’s skin. He wanted to get a reaction out of James, and at first he hadn’t cared whether it was positive or negative. Now…now he couldn’t imagine hurting Ironwood the way he had the day they’d met. Qrow wanted to make Ironwood smile and laugh, to trade jokes and drinks, and maybe so much more…

 

Qrow was instinctively heading for the local bar to drown himself out of such thoughts when his scroll rang. He immediately checked it and saw it was Ozpin. “Something wrong?” he asked in way of hello. He always did so during missions, his work more important that pleasantries. He was happy Oz understood that.

 

“ _No, not particularly,_ ” the ever cryptic headmaster said casually. Not mission talk, then. “ _However, there is a certain issue I would like you to attend to._ ”

 

Wasn't there always? But the way Oz said this gave Qrow a funny feeling about his tactical minded friend. “That issue being…?”

_“As you no doubt know, our good friend General Ironwood is in Vacuo for the tournament._ ” As was Oz and the other academy leaders (which rarely happened, each academy head preferring to stay in their own kingdoms), but Qrow knew his old friend was going somewhere with this. “ _Well, it seems he's run into a bit of a problem that requires a mechanic. And last time I checked, you were one of the best mechanics in Vale so I was wondering if you were available to help him out._ ”

 

The huntsman gave a sound of mock hurt. “I'll have you know I'm one of the best mechanics in all of Remnant, good sir! Designed my own superior weapon with my own two hands and a lot of sweat and blood.” He chuckled for the both of them, seeing the no doubt fond smile Oz got whenever one of his former students made dumb jokes. “But in all seriousness, what kind of mechanical problem is Ol’Jimmy having?”

 

“ _I'm sorry to say that it isn't my place to tell,_ ” he told the teacher honestly, peaking Qrow’s curiosity and annoyance. He never like going into anything half-cocked or half-informed. “ _But I'm sure James will tell you when you get there; he isn't exactly in a position to turn away help at the moment. Good day, Qrow, I'll text you his address momentarily!_ ” And with that, Oz cut off the line before Qrow got another word in edgewise.

 

Shrugging it off as Oz being Oz, Qrow spun on his heel to head back to his hotel and grab his tools. The location of one General Ironwood, luckily, wasn't that far away from where he himself was staying. Qrow actually thought he'd walk there today, rather than pop or sneak into the man’s hotel as a crow. It was the least he could do if the man was dealing with some frustrating issue, and it would be rude to add more stress onto those broad shoulders.

 

He found the fancy shmancy shindig James was staying at, bypassing the busy-looking receptionist like he owned the place and heading up to the general’s floor in the elevator. Oh man, there was even a hired button presser inside the metal death trap! Maybe Qrow should ask Ozpin for a raise…

 

He walked up to the door he knew Ironwood was behind and knocked. There was a shuffling noise from the other side, followed by a “Now isn't a good time!” from a very familiar voice.

 

“Ah, are you having kinky sex without me, Jimbo?” Qrow teased from his end. “And here I thought we were friends.”

 

Silence, and then the sound of a series of locks clicking before Ironwood opened the door as far as the chain would allow him. “What do you want, Qrow?”

 

The huntsman jangled his toolbox. “Oz called; said you might need some mechanical expertise, and well, I'm the best there is at what I do.”

 

James glowered at him at the reference. “I don't know what Ozpin told you, but I don't need your help.”

 

Qrow tilted his head with a smirk, hoping to hide his hurt at the gruff dismissal and confusion at such feelings. “That's not what Oz said,” he said in mock chide. “And what kind of friend would I be to disobey my leader and leave you hanging?”

 

Ironwood flinched at his choice of words, which made Qrow feel a little guilt despite not knowing what he might have said to hurt the old soldier. “Look, Oz didn't say anything more than that you were having some sort of problem and you needed some technical help,” he said by way of apology. “If it's some classified thingamajig I won't say anything I—”

 

“No, it's fine,” Ironwood quickly interrupted, eyes not quite meeting Qrow’s—and damn, those cobalt irises shouldn't still send his heart into such a tizzy. “It’s just…” he began, only to cut whatever he was going to say with a sigh.

 

The Atlas headmaster shut the door and unbolted the last lock and fully pulled it open, revealing a sight Qrow most certainly did not expect. Ironwood’s entire right side was made of actual iron. The thin white sleeveless shirt hid nothing as Qrow slid his rusty eyes down the taller man’s body, saw the scars down his middle and the gleam of steel that traveled all the way to the bottom of his right foot. His right arm was in a makeshift sling, obviously not working.

 

It shouldn't make Qrow’s throat suddenly so dry.

 

“…It's a very personal and touchy subject,” was all James said.

 

“No shit,” Qrow said instinctively, voice hoarse. Then he winced at how calloused that sounded. “I-I mean to say, I'll be gentle.” And good god, could he say that any less sexually? He was totally screwing this up.

 

Ironwood just chuckled at his blundering. “You know anything about cybernetics?”

 

Qrow puffed out his chest in pride. “I'll have you know I was top of my class, though I got to warn you I'm missing a few tools. I just have a preference for mechanics, since no one dies if I screw up.” And wow, he was making this so much better. “Not—not that that would happen or anything. I mean—”

 

“I know what you meant; and don't worry I have tools of my own,” Ironwood assured. He lurched aside, and yeah, looks like his leg wasn't working properly either. “Please, come in.”

 

Qrow thanked him, hoping he wasn't blushing too harshly. God, he hadn't felt this awkward since the times he'd walked in on Tai, Summer, and his sister canoodling. As expected, the general had one swanky place, kept comfortably cool to fend off the Vacuo heat. A table containing a number of tiny screw drivers and wrenches sat in the den area, obvious signs that the man had attempted to fix this problem himself.

 

“So how do you want to do this?” Qrow asked, shaking his toolbox again for emphasis.

 

He was _very_ glad Ironwood had turned away from him then, because when the broader man removed his shirt one handed Qrow was sure his face was red as his cape and that there may be a slight bulge in his pants. He'd managed to recover most of his sense by the time James turned around and sat on the bed, the frame chained to the ceiling in classic Vacuo style.

 

“It's mostly my arm, this heat is affecting the calibrations,” James explained awkwardly. “I would have fixed it myself, but it's in a place on my back I can't quite reach…and it's hard to fix with only one hand so…” And good lord, the man was blushing from embarrassment. Qrow never would have thought the man’s cheeks were capable of any color outside of pale.

 

Then again, this was probably a deep source of shame for the man. Theirs was a society that thought little of people who had been born with tails and an extra pair of ears; how often had others looked at Ironwood’s cybernetic half and cringed away in disgust? It certainly explained why Qrow had been the only one without pants all those years ago.

 

“I uh…” Qrow stuttered, eyeing those broad shoulders and abs with hunger. He shook his head to clear it. “I-I’ll start th-there then.”

 

The dull silver plating on Ironwood’s back shoulder blade could be removed, and Qrow saw what the issue was right off the bat, getting to work immediately. He messed with a few wires, tightened his calibrations, and moved a few smaller gears into their correct alignment. Eventually he came across a series of wires that had completely disengaged from where they were supposed to hook up to Ironwood’s nerves.

 

Well that wasn't good. “Hey,” Qrow spoke up, pushing the screwdriver he'd habitually stuck in his mouth out. “I'm gonna have to reconnect some of these wires. Might fix your arm, but it's gonna hurt.”

 

A grim chuckle from the general. “Oh, no worries on that,” he said cryptically.

 

“I may not have a degree in cybernetics, but I do keep an eye on the journals and stuff on it.” A look of amused surprise and curiosity from Ironwood. “I'm a grease monkey, gears and tech stuff are a hobby for me. Anyway, you may laugh it off, but trust me, according to what I read and the theory and stuff behind it, this is going to really hurt a lot.”

 

“No, it really won't,” Ironwood insisted.

 

“Jimmy, I may be able to take a blow easier than the next guy, but even something like this would be enough to make me scream.”

 

“Not when you can't feel anything.”

 

And that's when he remembered it: that hazy night two years prior, _I wish I couldn't feel anything_ … _No you don't!_

 

“…Qrow?” Ironwood prodded. From his tone, Qrow had been quiet for a while.

 

Shaking his head to clear it, Qrow tightened his grip on the gear in question. “You…you know they make these where they connect to your nerves and you can feel things like heat, pressure, texture…” Qrow said lamely.

 

James nodded. “I do but…but I don't have time for an upgrade. And I've had this model since forever, why change it now?”

 

Qrow shoved the gear into place. _No you don't…_ “Oh come now, Jimmy, I'm sure you could cut time out of your busy schedule. Self-care isn't selfish, you know.”

 

“As touching as that is, I just can't put my own desires before that of Remnant or my students,” Ironwood insisted. “And it isn't like I need to feel.”

 

“That's more sounds like you're trying to convince yourself, Jimmy,” Qrow observed, mouthing around his screwdriver and realigning another gear.

 

“It's James.” Was the automatic response. Qrow grinned; it was a big improvement from “general.”

 

When asked if James also wanted him to work on his leg, Qrow was surprised to hear an eager yes from the larger man. And so he reattached the plating to his shoulder blade before moving down and repeating the process in his thigh and knee. He was gentle, despite what he now knew about the general’s condition.

 

Qrow recalled their conversation four years prior, the guilt eating away at him as he worked. A heartless tin-man…how could he have ever been so cruel?

 

Qrow finished his work in silence, watching James flex and test his fixed limbs from the corner of his red eyes. All those muscles and gears, loosening and tightening as they moved…Qrow should really stop his mind from wandering further into such thoughts.

 

“I ever tell you about my nieces?” the huntsman finally said aloud, locking up the toolbox and throwing it over his shoulder with ease. James raised an eyebrow in question.

 

Grinning with pride, Qrow settled down on a chair. “Well, first there’s Yang—blonde, loud, and stubborn as they come. She's got her mother’s looks with her dad’s hair and fighting spirit.” He looked up at the ceiling, remembering a pair of bright golden pigtails and happy lilac eyes. He sighed. “She really wants to know more about her mother, my sister. I'm a little…a little afraid to tell her what Raven is really like, the person she’s become.” A puzzled look from the general. “Raven’s view of the world differs greatly from my own, and let's just say it's not a look I particularly agree with and leave it at that.”

 

A fonder smile alighted Qrow’s mouth. “And then there's little Ruby. The spitting image of her mother, Summer. Her hair’s brown now, but I'm willing to bet it'll grow red around the tips just like Summer’s. And god, she even acts like the woman sometimes! She's fun and clever, but oh so shy and nervous around new people. You should have seen her the day we first met, hiding behind Tai’s legs and stating up at me with these frightened silver eyes. As soon as I showed her all the candy I brought to bribe them with, though, I quickly became her favorite uncle!”

 

James chuckled, and the sound went straight to Qrow’s stomach, little butterflies warming and tightening his chest in a way he'd never felt before.

 

“You know,” Qrow said hesitantly. “None of it—me making up with Tai, meeting my nieces, coming to terms with Summer’s death…I never would have had the balls to talk to him, or try and make amends…if you hadn't helped me out all those years ago.”

 

Without looking for James’ reaction, Qrow rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “I—I was wrong to…to call you a ‘heartless tin-man…’ back when we slept together…and also ‘sex robot.’ That was stupid and wrong of me.”

 

James didn't say a word, just sat there on the chained bed, most likely just staring at Qrow with that expressionless mask over his face. “I just…I made a dumb comment and I’m…I'm so sorry, you're definitely not heartless and…”

 

Suddenly flustered, Qrow sat up quickly and glanced at the clock to try and come up with an excuse to leave. “I probably have somewhere to be, I’m supposed to be in Shade for a mission after all and—”

 

A cool hand grasped ahold of one of Qrow’s shoulder’s and spun him around to look deeply into those sparkling, cobalt eyes that were anything but emotionless. “Qrow,” James said quietly. “It's ok. You didn't know and…it's ok. I forgave you, and it isn't like it's a big deal—”

 

“That’s a load of crap and you know it,” Qrow interrupted. “You kicked me out right after I said it, and didn't even give me time to apologize. You and I never got along afterwards, so it was definitely a big deal.

 

Qrow exhaled, trying to get his thoughts back in order. “Look, I just wanted—no, needed to tell you…you're not heartless, James.” Qrow had to refrain from shivering when the larger man tensed at the sound of his real name rather than the dumb nickname he always used. “You're a deeply caring, strong, and encouraging man, and…” He looked up to meet those beautiful eyes again. “And I was wrong, so I'm sorry.”

 

They were standing so close to each other; Qrow could feel the heat coming off James’s left side, contrasting greatly with the cool metal of his left. The twin sound of a whirring engine and massive, thumping heart drowned out all other sound as the huntsman sank into those fathomless blue pools. It wouldn't take a lot of effort to just…lean up and brush their lips together…to bring their heads just a little closer…

 

The sound of someone’s scroll interrupted the line of thought quickly, sending them both stiff as startled cats before James left his side with a muffled curse to go answer it. “Yes?” he said into the receiver with the utmost patience. A babble of words from the other end, and then a sigh.

 

He turned to Qrow, regret lined in every inch of his face, as his free hand covered the mouth piece. “I'm sorry,” he spoke quietly. “I have to take this.”

 

Despite the stab of pain and hurt he felt, Qrow put on his best smile and picked up his discarded toolbox. “Hey, no sweat, Jimmy-boy!” he cackled. “My work here is done.”

 

Before James could respond, Qrow just brushed past him, refusing to let the happy lie on his face drop and crumble. “I'll send the bill to Oz, so you don't have to worry about a thing. Night!”

 

James didn't have to know how a defeated Qrow practically ran up to the roof to flutter frantically away, didn't have to know how he flew to the nearest bar and drowned his sorrow in liquor.

 

He most certainly didn't have to know about the feelings the huntsman began smothering down, locked and corked tight like a bottle of good Champaign, ready to blow the minute he unscrewed the lid.

 

*~*~*

**IV**

 

James hummed contentedly as he marched through Haven’s immense courtyard garden.

 

Of all the hunting academies, Mistral’s was most definitely the most beautiful of all of them, with gorgeous architecture and floral décor that brightened up even the most dower of moods. James would have happily set up something similar for Atlas had Mantle not been far too cold for such things. For now, the students would have to be content with the restricted greenhouse he kept up there to grow fresh fruits and vegetables…or be lucky enough to attend the Haven Vytal Festival.

 

And because of said festival’s celebratory tournament, the campus was miraculously free of visitors, students, and staff members—leaving James a rare opportunity to just sit back, open up a book and simply relax.

 

He was well into his novel (an epic tale of a time-traveling huntress) when he heard it: the faint, distressed cries of a bird from nearby. He paused from his reading, curiously looking around for the source of the noise. The pitiful chirping sounded close—really close…almost as if it was right under his nose…

 

James looked under the bench he was sitting on, and there it was. A little wounded crow, blood seeping from a wound from its side and little chest panting in exertion. Its wings were spread awkwardly, as if it was trying to glide in the dirt—it had probably hit its head on the landing as well.

 

“Oh, hey little guy,” James cooed, bookmarking his page and reaching under with his right hand. “What happened to you?”

 

He held the crow far enough to his face to not breathe in any potential bacteria or viruses while still close enough to examine. Its arrow-like beak had a tiny pink tongue lolling out, one eyelid peeking open dazedly to try and look up at him.

 

James frowned when he used his gloved metal thumb to lightly brush the black feathers aside to look at the injury. This…this as a smaller Nevermore wound. Since when did Grimm attack animals? Unless this brave little scavenger thought it would be a good idea to take some food from a flock.

 

However it ended up tussling with the devilish bird, it was lucky enough to have gotten away without anything worse.

 

James felt torn; he couldn't just abandon the poor thing in such dire agony, but he didn't really know much about bird care…

 

A distressed warble from the crow attracted the general’s attention again, red eyes blinking and looking up at him desperately. It wiggled in his palm and flapped its wings weakly. James felt his heart rise in his throat. How could he say no to a look like that?

 

He cradled the bird to his chest and looked up “what to do if you find a hurt crow” on his scroll, walking up to his hotel as he absorbed the information. When he made it inside, the first thing his did was run the crow under some lukewarm water to clean the scratch (and lessen the likelihood of him getting infected), which wasn't as terrible as he'd first thought. When James felt its tiny feet with his left hand he didn't feel a fever, though he did get a scratch from those sharp little claws for his troubles.

 

He tried making a little shoebox nest for it, but the stubborn Corvus just climbed out whenever he placed it in there so he just carried it around like a pirate parrot while he made a hardboiled egg for his little guest. He lacked the mealworms the different websites told him to feed, so he thought this would be the best (and least disgusting thing) to substitute.

 

When it began shivering on his massive shoulder, James cooed over the poor baby and wrapped it in a towel, putting a little bowl of water and food in front of the sweet thing. He then settled down to finish his book, smiling when the tiny bird crawled close to nuzzle against his arm.

 

After another hour of adorable crow cuddling, he inspected the bird once more, ignoring the croaks of protest he received from the treatment. The tear already looked like it would heal well, and it was flapping its wings well enough, so he perched the crow on his prosthesis and took it over to the window.

 

James shook his arm gently as incentive, and it wasn't long before the Corvus got the message and fluttered off to continue its journey. The Atlesian stood there a few more moments, watching the crow disappear behind an apartment garden terrace. It must have spotted something tastier than an egg to munch on.

 

Exhaling, the general shut the window, trying not to overanalyze the sudden surge of loneliness that came from watching the crow fly away.

 

Ever since his last meeting with Qrow, their almost kiss…James hadn't felt this way in so long, since before the accident. And he certainly hadn't expected to feel this way about a man like Qrow. Now every time they went to attend one of Ozpin’s meetings, James had to refrain was staring at that tight ass hidden behind the pants and cape, the flexing muscles under the gray shirt while they talked, remembering the way they'd arched under his mouth and fingers. Or staying behind to talk about the man’s adorable nieces, gazing fondly at that gorgeous smile or listen to that laugh that had somehow managed to brighten up his entire chest…

 

James didn't know why the fleeing wings of the black bird brought up all these emotions, rekindled the attraction he had long thought let go, but they did. An attraction Qrow hadn't appeared to return since the last festival. Their almost kiss hadn't ever been mentioned or brought up in conversation, so James had to assume Qrow wasn't interested outside their first meeting.

 

James returned to the kitchen, intent on ordering himself some takeout or something to hide away from his unwanted feelings.

 

As he ordered some quick Vacuo food (James loved himself some spices), he stared down at the multiple prosthesis designs he had asked from Dr. Polendina. Another thing that had plagued his mind since that last Vytal Festival was…perhaps finally breaking down and replacing his limbs—might actually let him _feel_ something again.

 

But something was holding James back, restraining him against making that phone call and taking the long overdue step. It was almost as if he was waiting for something, which was ridiculous. Why would he need to wait when he'd desperately wanted this for so long?

 

There was a sudden tapping sound from the direction of his window, pulling James out of his thoughts. Looking out, he was surprised to see his little Corvus buddy had returned.

 

“Hey there,” James cooed, opening up the window and welcoming the little bird back inside his hotel. “What are you doing back here, little guy?”

 

The crow squawked and hopped onto his prosthesis again, nudging the closed metal hand expectantly. Curious, James let his palm open.

 

Only to regret it immediately when the bird dropped a number of shiny objects, berries, and _bugs_ there.

 

James recoiled back and dropped the items with a yelp he would never admit to making. The stubborn crow croaked in protest at the sudden motion and held on valiantly to where its claws were digging in between James’ plates. The creepy crawlies scattered off across the hotel floor to a number of different hiding places, assuring James would most likely not be sleeping easily tonight.

 

The crow chirped indignantly and glided to the ground, picking at the worm that hadn't managed to squirm away and taking it up in its beak. It looked up at James with its innocent scarlet eyes and held the little pink worm up for him.

 

James sighed, letting go of his annoyance as quickly as it had come; it was hard to stay mad at animals when they made mistakes out of kindness.

 

He managed to round up a few critters and release them back out the window (except one frightening looking spider, which met its end when James was a little too hard with the tissue because _spider_ ) before settling down to really look at the baubles his avian friend had thought to thank him with.

 

One of those fancy paperclips in the shape of an animal (this one was a whale), what looked like the spring of a pen, a little ladybug earring, what looked like a walnut, and…dear god was that an actual _gemstone_?

 

Holding it up to the light, he watched the way the deep blue crystal refracted across the table. James really, really hoped this was made of plastic.

 

The crow in question had taken up a perch once again on his shoulder, finally asleep and snuggling adorably against James’ neck after what must have been a long, troubling day. James knew he should really release it back outside, but every time he tried it just flew right back inside. Unable to do more than just let it sit there contentedly against his ear, James sat back on his bed and looked up Atlas laws about keeping pet birds.

 

Eventually the events of the day caught up to James as well, feeling his eyelids grow heavier as he stared at the bird cage he'd brought up on screen. He'd take another look at it tomorrow, he supposed, tossing the scroll aside. Might even check out the local pet stores—Mistral citizens kept plenty of rare pets, it wouldn’t be too hard.

 

James gently picked up the little crow from his shoulder and placed it on a pillow, the motion enough for the Corvus to peek open a tired red eye at the general tiredly. Settling on his back, eyes closed, James grinned when he felt little claws clamber up the sweatshirt he was wearing. When it decided the center of his chest was the best place to fall asleep on, James reached up to pet that feathery little head. The action earned him a please croak.

 

Such an odd little creature, he thought warmly before succumbing to slumber.

 

*~*~*

 

James was dreaming of something heavy on his chest.

 

In his dream, he tried shoving the large metal sheet his unconscious mind had conjured up, but it wouldn't budge. Then, to his horror, the steel began to _melt over his skin_ , pooling out from his prosthesis and continuing over, taking more and more of his body, his humanity, his _heart_ …

 

James jerked awake, gasping as the cool air if his hotel room ghosted over his heated skin. After a few more moments of confusion, he shut his eyes tight, finally remembering where he was. None of it had been real, he told himself: not the iron, not the sensation of losing more of his body, not the bearing weight on his chest…

 

Blue eyes shot open at the thought, awake mind now fully aware that there was indeed still something big (though not too heavy) on his chest.

 

Glancing down, James felt his jaw drop. That…that was _Qrow_ lying there, right on top of James’ broad middle.  What in the world…?

 

The sleeping huntsman simply lay there, arms folded so that each palm curled over one of James’ pectorals, head somehow comfortable against the plate of James’ collar bone. The general had to scrunch his face in order to resist the urge to sneeze when those black locks tickled his nose. The only thing James supposed he should be thankful for was the fact that Qrow wasn't naked, wearing his usual gray outfit, tattered scarlet cape trailing over both of them like a blanket.

 

James was understandably perplexed; how in the world had Qrow gotten in here in the first place? And why would he break in just to _cuddle_ , of all things?

 

Pulling his right hand back from switching the lamp on his nightstand on, James noticed a single black feather had gotten stuck between the joints of his knuckles. Looking back down at the enlightened bed, he found a lot more gleaming feathers covering him and Qrow.

 

The realization hit him like a brick wall. Qrow…was a crow— _the_ crow, the one James had been contemplating keeping! The very same one that had released a ton of _insects_ into his hotel and _eaten_ some.

 

James was shocked, to say the least. Did Ozpin know? Of course he probably did, it was Ozpin, and it certainly explained why the number of bird puns the Beacon headmaster seemed to know. It also explained just why Qrow was such a good spy, why he always seemed to get the best information. No one really needed to be careful with their secrets when they thought animals weren't listening.

 

Qrow suddenly made a soft noise at the back of his throat, turning his head to the other side with a snuffle before becoming limp once more.

 

James smiled fondly at the action; even asleep and human, the huntsman was still adorable.

 

But the general shook his head, refocusing on the task at hand.

 

“Qrow,” James said gently, reaching up and gingerly nudging his sleeping companion with his left hand. The action just made Qrow grumble, bringing his hands in a little closer as if to curl further into his dreams. “Come on Qrow, get up.”

 

James only needed to shake Qrow a little harder to bring him out of it, the huntsman returning to the land of the living with a groan. He lifted his head and squinted at James, barely conscious mind needing a moment to compute what exactly was going on. The general had to refrain from grinning; there were red marks on the side of Qrow’s face from where his head had been resting on James’ shirt.

 

The moment swiftly ceased as Qrow finally processed where he was exactly, evident by the look of sheer terror that made his face pale and his dull red eyes widen.

 

With a cry of “shit!” Qrow jolted up off James’s stomach, only to repeat the curse when the wound at his side apparently took offense at the action, if the hand that leapt up to clutch where James knew the injury should be was anything to go by. Qrow dropped back down with a groan, grunting when his head hit the metal half of James’ chest hard enough to make James wince out of sympathy.

 

“Carful,” the general ordered quietly. “You'll reopen your wound, and it's a lot bigger now than it was when I first found you. I doubt you'll want to go to a hospital, and trust me, you definitely don't want me to be the one giving you stitches.”

 

That was supposed to be a joke, but the way Qrow stiffened told James that it wasn’t taken that way.

 

Sighing, James pushed the huntsman off him and let him fall back down against the sheets, red eyes looking anywhere else but James’ direction. James got up and headed for the kitchen, intent on boiling up a cup of coffee for the two of them.

 

When he returned to the bedroom, James was surprised to see Qrow had removed most of the feathers from the bed, the huntsman himself shuffling his hands together awkwardly, almost guiltily. “I-I cleaned up what I could,” Qrow said sheepishly. “You might still have some downy fluff in there, though.”

 

James chuckled, handing his colleague a steaming mug. “No harm done,” he assured Qrow. “I understand.” James paused. “Well, not really. But thank you.”

 

Qrow just stared down at the coffee in uncomfortable silence.

 

James sat on the opposite end of the bed, hoping that would make Qrow feel a little better for when he spoke next. “So,” James said casually, as if this was an everyday occurrence. “At least this explained why Nevermores don't like you.”

 

Qrow shifted where he sat, glancing at James questioningly from the corner of his eye. “Back during the Atlas Vytal Festival. You said Nevermores didn't like you,” James clarified. Qrow hummed a confirmation.

 

James took a sip from his drink. “You also said you looked like them,” he said quietly, his words making Qrow flinch. “I didn't pay attention at the time—you were more drunk than usual, after all, and understandably so. But I can't help but think of the words now.”

 

Qrow straightened his back as if intent on saying something, and yet no sound came out. A thousand different emotions flashed over his face: anger, hurt, fear, and overall, _shame_.

 

James could relate, remembering the day the huntsman had showed up at his door and seen James’ prosthesis for the first time. “I'm not disappointed in you, Qrow,” James tried to assure. “There's nothing for you to feel ashamed about.”

 

Qrow’s knuckles were white from how tight his grip on the mug was. “…how can you say that?” he finally asked, voice so quiet James almost hadn't heard him.

 

“How can I—a man who can't even go for a casual stroll in the most beautiful garden in the world without a glove and long sleeves, who hasn't gotten close to anyone since he had his entire right side replaced with metal—possibly be disappointed when he finds out his best friend is keeping secrets of his own? I'm a lot of things, Qrow, but a hypocrite isn't one of them.”

 

Qrow shook his head, dismissing the general’s words stubbornly. “At least you're prosthetics are explainable,” he said bitterly, but James knew that bitterness was directed more toward Qrow than himself. “ _I_ don't even know why I can do it, and it's my weird ability. Best I can figure out is that it’s some sort of extra ability, like…like Oz and his weird magic shit.”

 

“Can your sister do it as well? Her name is ‘Raven,’ if I recall correctly,” James asked curiously.

 

Qrow nodded. “She's better at it than me, though. She doesn't…” The huntsman trailed off, his cheeks gaining some color out of embarrassment. “She, uh, doesn't lose herself—the way I do, sometimes.” He tore himself away from James’ gaze. “The way I did.”

 

James felt his lip twitch in amusement. “Is that why you tried to feed me bugs?”

 

Qrow’s head shot up, eyes wide. “I did—I did _what_?!”

 

“You brought a bunch of bugs into my room and dropped them into my palm,” James explained with a teasing smirk. “Do you not remember?”

 

“No, I—” Qrow groaned, face-palming as his cheeks flushed a deeper crimson. “It's hard to think when I—when I change, especially the longer I stay a bird or when I get hurt…Shit, James, I'm so sorry.”

 

James laughed, a warm little presence growing in his chest at the sound of his actual name rather than one of the playful huntsman’s nicknames. “Its fine, Qrow,” he said in reassurance. “It was sort of adorable, actually.”

 

That only made Qrow blush furiously harder, probably bright enough to stop traffic at this point. But the tension left those smaller shoulders, like James’ words had taken a great weight off of them. Remembering how he had felt before the huntsman had shown up at his door a couple of years ago, the relief of finally having someone know and, more importantly, not think him some sort of freak or recoil in disgust—James could relate.

 

“You also gave me a few shiny trinkets to enjoy,” James teased. “And I will definitely be using that whale paperclip around the school when I return.”

 

Qrow groaned again, placing the coffee on the nightstand so he could lean in to cradle his head in his hands. “Oh my god I hate bird me…” he muttered.

 

James chuckled warmly. “It's really fine, Qrow. And I'm a little glad I know, now.” James stood up, moving to stand beside his friend. He placed his right hand on Qrow’s shoulder, for once unconcerned with the fact that James had forgone his glove. “You're my friend, Qrow. You're also one of the greatest huntsmen I've ever met, and I care about—” _you, you, always you_ “—your health and wellbeing.”

 

Qrow leaned into James’ hand in a way that was almost instinctive, obviously touched by the admission. “I…thank you, James,” was all he said.

 

The way he said James’ name, tender and relieved, made James light up like a Dust crystal. “Think nothing of it, love,” James said with a smile, turning away to put his now empty mug in the sink.

 

Because his back was turned, James didn't see the shocked look on Qrow’s face or the rigid line his spine had become. He did hear the quiet, almost frightened whisper before he stepped foot out of the room. “What did you call me?”

 

James returned his attention to Qrow. “Hmm, what?”

 

Qrow was staring at him wide eyed, fists clenched on his knees so tightly the knuckles were white. “You…you called me ‘love,’” he said quietly.

 

James froze where he stood, recalling his exact words. Oh dear god, he had called Qrow that, hadn't he. Why in the world would James do that, he was normally so careful with his words, how could he be so stupid?

 

“Qrow, I'm sorry,” James said hurriedly. “I don’t know—I didn’t—I—”

 

His babbling was halted by a pair of hands over his own, one hand taking his mug and placing it beside the other forgotten one on the nightstand. “James,” Qrow said in hushed tones, looking up at the general with his beautiful red eyes—and how could James have ever called then dull, when they sparkled like crimson garnets? “Do you…love me?”

_Yes,_ James wanted to say, _more than anything else in the world._ And yet the words wouldn't leave his mouth, too comfortable trapped in his throat where no one could hear them after spending so long there.

 

“The open mouthed panic on your face tells me plenty, Jim,” Qrow observed, moving his hands up to cup James’ face. “Hopefully this tells you plenty, as well.”

 

And then their lips were connected.

 

It was nothing like the kisses they'd shared nearly a decade ago; gentle, sweet, slow, and lacking the frustration and anger that used to be there, though no less passionate. Qrow wrapped his arms around James’ neck at the same time James moved his down to hold the huntsman’s upper and lower back, leaning forward a little until he was practically dipping Qrow.

 

When they broke apart for air, Qrow took two of his fingers and stuck them around the collar of James’ sweatshirt, releasing himself in order to pull them both backward towards the bed, returning to their kissing as soon as they'd caught their breath again. Never breaking their connection, the two men lay down on the mattress, Qrow under James, the latter holding himself up by his elbows as his arms framed Qrow’s head.

 

Qrow ran his right hand down James’ left side, keeping his other palm at the base of James’ neck, the touch sending shivers up the sections of his spine that hadn't been replaced with wires. When that wandering hand reached to hook around James’ sleep pants, however, the heady buzz in his head he got from tasting Qrow’s lips was swiftly replaced by fear.

 

“Wait,” James said quickly, tearing his lips away from Qrow’s and making the smaller man whimper.

 

Once his brain caught up to him, though, Qrow let go of James. “What's wrong?” he asked, staring up at James with worry. “Did I…?”

 

“No, no, you didn't do anything,” James reassured. He took up one of Qrow’s hands and kissed the palm as an added assurance. “You're perfect, my dear Qrow; it's me that's at fault.”

 

Taking in a shaky breath, James tried very hard to look Qrow in the eye for what he was about to say. “I…you know how I have prosthesis?”

 

“Uh, yeah?” Qrow confirmed, drumming his fingers against James’ shoulder nervously. “I sort of worked on them once, if you recall.”

 

“Of course; rather expertly, I must say,” James said with a grin and another kiss, this one to Qrow’s bang covered forehead. Then his expression became serious and embarrassed again. “It's just…do you know how far they spread?”

 

Qrow blinked, as if he _had_ thought he'd know the extent of James injuries before now. “Um…no?”

 

James gulped. “They—it—I had to replace more than half of my hip,” he tried to explain evenly. Much to James’ dismay, Qrow still looked confused. “Qrow, I… _Idon’thaveapenis_.”

 

This last part was said so hurriedly and high-pitched that Qrow had to pause to try and comprehend the words. “You…don't have a penis?”

 

James shook his head, face nearly as bright as a strawberry.

 

“Oh.” And dear god, what did that even _mean_? What does “oh” mean?

 

“Well, that's ok,” Qrow continued. “I mean, it's not weird, plenty of men have that, it doesn't mean you’re not a guy—”

 

“No, that's not what I meant!” James interrupted again. “I-I’m not transgender either. I meant…I don't have _anything_. You know, down there.”

 

James could visually see the gears whirring in Qrow’s head, saw the moment everything finally clicked. Another one of those infuriatingly confusing “ohs,” leaving James holding his breath, prepared for the worst.

 

“So wait—how do you pee?”

 

James blinked, the groaned. “I…I sit down? There’s a hole and I…you’re ok with this?” Of course not, how could he be fine with this? This was it, this was the part where they left, laughed, or worse—

 

“Well, why wouldn’t I be?” and Qrow’s voice was there, hurrying to cut through any negative thoughts James could develop. Disbelieving of the question, James couldn’t help but look away, only looking back when Qrow’s hand pulled him back. “James, seriously, it’s ok.”

 

“But—I—you—but you really like sex,” James stuttered out, flustered and red-faced.

 

The statement made Qrow laugh into the crook of James’ neck and flesh shoulder, which made James feel even worse before a kiss was placed on each of the general’s glowing red cheeks. “I can’t deny that, and you honestly have no idea how much I want to have sex with _you_ most of all.” This was said with another kiss, much deeper and desperate than previously, making James whine when they broke apart.

 

“But it’s not like I need sex. I wasn't even going for that, I was hoping we could just, you know, cuddle naked…” James gave a look of alarm at that. “… If you were ok with that, which you obviously aren't, and that's ok, too. I don't need that, either. You, on the other hand—” The hands on the sweatshirt tightened. “God, do I need you. I…I love you, James.”

 

James made a needy sound in the back of his throat, diving down to taste those amazing lips once more. “I love you too, Qrow,” he whispered into Qrow’s mouth. “I’ve loved you for so long, so very, very long.”

 

They continued their kiss, breaking apart only when they needed to come up for air, until the need for sleep outmatched their need to carry on. And so James rolled them back to their original position, holding Qrow against his chest, the two of them still fully clothed, smiling all the way down into their dreams.

 

*~*~*

**V**

 

Qrow was the happiest crow in the Atlas skies.

 

Giddy with happiness, Qrow indulged in his instincts and dove into a pile of snow the way other crows did, cackling with joy as he rolled around in the fallen white flakes. While he normally disliked the cold continent of Mantle, there were two things that could attract Qrow there of his own freewill: this amazing snow, and _James_.

 

It had been six months since they’d started their relationship, and they had been the best six months of Qrow’s entire life. God, did he love everything about the man; the silly smile he wore when he successfully designed a new mech, the snorts he made the few times Qrow had managed to make the man bellow with laughter, the consistency of his loving phone calls whenever he and Qrow were parted for more than a couple of weeks, the coffee and soothing words that the huntsman was beginning to learn would always be there when his nightmares and emotional state bean to haunt him. And Qrow was doing his best to take care of James when things were getting rough with his own anxiety, PTSD, and internalized hatred toward his prosthesis. It was hard for them both, but once they’d realized that as long as they had each other, worked together like partners should, and loved one another, nothing would get in their way or tear them apart—and their comforting cuddles were so rewarding.

 

And the old general wouldn’t be expecting a visit from Qrow for another week or two. The mission Oz had sent him on this time around had gone smoothly for once, so he had decided to drop by James’ home for a pleasant surprise. Qrow was doubly excited for this visit, remembering James had promised a surprise of his own when Qrow returned.

 

Since the “bird incident” (as James kept calling it, simply to make Qrow blush) James had kept the window to his bedroom cracked open for Qrow to soar into, since Qrow stubbornly refused to use the key he'd been given (what was the point of walking when he could just fly?). Sometimes James would be in there, sometimes not.

 

Like now, for instance. Qrow gave a loud croak that echoed throughout the house, hoping to hear an answering, joy-filled “Qrow!” from somewhere inside. But all was silent; no snores, no sounds of cooking, and no one-sided conversation that told Qrow James would be talking with someone on his scroll.

 

Curious, Qrow flitted around the house, reluctant to shift back if someone who didn't belong was inside. But there wasn't anyone here, which only confused him further.

 

“James?” Qrow called out when he finally decided to shift back. “Please tell me you just have headphones on or something so I don't feel too crazy for talking to myself.”

 

It was then that his scroll started ringing in his pocket, startling Qrow for a moment before he reached down to answer it. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw James’ name and picture (one of the few he had of the general actually smiling and looking directly into the camera, Qrow loved it) on the screen.

 

“Howdy, Jimmy!” he immediately said when he answered. “Working late again?”

 

“ _Uhhh…_ ” And Qrow froze. The unexpected, unfamiliar feminine voice answering James’ scroll and the implications of such was making his stomach churn and his insides freeze. “ _Well, technically I am working late, I guess, but I'm afraid I'm not the general, sorry._ ”

 

Well, the babbling at least told Qrow she wasn't threatening. He took a deep, calming breath. “…may I ask who’s calling and why?” Qrow asked. “Especially from their own scroll?”

 

“ _Oh!_ ” the girl gasped, as if finally realizing the weirdness of the situation. “ _Yeah, this is probably a little confusing. Um, well I was packing up General Ironwood’s things when a reminder on his phone went off and you see I didn't know how to turn it off, and I didn’t think anyone would answer and I didn't want to disturb the general, especially since he's still fresh out of surgery—_ ”

 

“ _What?!_ ” Surgery? Was James ok? He couldn't be, the man hated hospitals after his accident. “What do you mean by surgery?!”

 

“ _Nothing bad! It was a simple replacement operation, and it went off smoothly, though General Ironwood is probably still woozy from all the drugs. But he's completely fine, nothing to worry about Mister…Qrow? Am I saying that right?_ ”

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, Qrow just barely refrained from snapping at the girl. It was almost as bad as talking to Ruby when she went off on her tangents. “Yes, that's how you say it,” Qrow confirmed, voice strained from impatience. “But what about Jim—General Ironwood? _Why_ was he in for surgery?”

 

A pause from the other end. “ _He…he didn't tell you? You're not like a business partner or teacher or something? He was getting his cybernetics replaced._ ”

 

The mere sentence both surprised and relieved Qrow, able to have his questions answered at last. James had always said he didn't need replacements, and while Qrow disagreed, he hadn't made a big deal out of it, this being James’ body and choice after all. Why the sudden change in attitude?

 

“ _Good thing, too, because that thing he had before was so_ ancient,” the person on the other line continued to babble. “ _Like, first model ancient. It didn't even have sensory calibrations! And it weighs a_ ton, _let me tell you. How someone could even live like that boggles my mind—_ ”

 

“Look, kid, that's great and all, but what hospital is he at? Please, I need to know.” Qrow knew it was rude to cut her off, but he had to find James, had to make sure he was alright.

 

“ _We're at Atlas General Hospital,_ ” she answered. “ _You won't be able to visit him though, it's immediate family only—_ ”

 

“I'm his boyfriend, is that immediate enough?”

 

Silence from the other line, broke. Only by the pounding of Qrow’s heart in his ears as he held his breath.

 

Then a sigh from the girl. “… _no_ ,” she finally answered, that single word making Qrow’s heart sink for a few moments. “ _But I can sneak you in here, because darn my bleeding heart. Just meet me down in the lobby when you get here._ ”

 

Grinning, Qrow thanked her profusely, already on his way back to the window to head over. “ _Yeah, yeah—just be here in the next ten minutes._ ”

 

“I'll be there in five,” Qrow assured before hanging up, soaring out the window moments later.

 

*~*~*

 

Qrow made it there in three minutes.

 

Turns out, Atlas General Hospital was quite the opposite of general, and rather fancy. There was an actual chandelier in the main lobby when Qrow walked in, and lots of men and women coming in and out in really nice outfits. Even the nurses looked expensive, with hair pins made of gold and silver in their buns and those wealthy looking watches Ozpin collected adorning their wrists. Seriously, what were these headmasters getting paid if they could afford places like this?

 

Qrow felt out of place in such a place, with his tattered cape and sweat-stained gray suit and jeans. But James was here, and screw anyone who thought he didn’t belong; and once the lady on the phone came and got him he didn’t need to glare back at the stuck up Schnee-wannabes who had annoying him since he’d gotten there.

 

Then Qrow realized—he had no idea who he was looking for.

 

Luckily he really stood out like a sore thumb.

 

“Hi!” came a perky little voice from behind him. “You wouldn’t be Mr. Qrow, would you?”

 

Turing around, Qrow came face to face with the youngest nurse he’d ever seen. Honestly, she looked about fifteen, not even old enough to attend an academy, and so very short and tiny. She had most of her long black hair rolled up into a side bun with a pair of ebony chopsticks to keep all but her bangs in place, the strands of which covered her round, pale face and pale yellow eyes. The flicker of something black over each of her shoulders attracted Qrow’s attention, where he saw a tiny pair of black wings fluttering; she was a Faunus, one of the rare winged ones. A clipboard was pressed to her chest tightly.

 

“Uh…yeah?” Qrow said nervously, still a little thrown-off by how young she was. “But it’s just Qrow.”

 

“Great! Come on, I don’t want to get caught!” Without another word, she turned on her heel and hurried away, feathers folded in on themselves in a way Qrow recognized as fear.

 

“Wait up!” Qrow called after her, following her into the elevator. When they were both in the metal death trap, they were standing awkwardly alone as they waited to reach James’ floor. “Um…so what’s your name?”

 

“Oh, yeah,” the Faunus said, as if realizing something. “I forgot to say it again, didn’t I?” She giggled, which didn’t do much to calm Qrow’s nerves. She stuck out her very small hand. “I’m Corona, Corona Eclipse. Weird name for a nurse, I know, but you know, it wasn’t my decision. My family is celestial themed, and I’m proud to carry on the tradition!” Corona’s little wings fluttered excitedly.

 

Qrow had no idea how to respond to her babbling.

 

The grip on her clipboard became white-knuckled. “I…there’s really nothing wrong with him,” she tried to assure. “His replacement went over spectacularly, even if he was a little scared of going under.” Qrow nodded; James hated relying on drugs to sleep, even going out of his way to avoid simple melatonin whenever Qrow pestered. “And…I’m sorry. That I called. I know I really shouldn’t have, but I guess it’s like my sibling says: I may be a genius, but I make really dumb decisions.”

 

Sighing at her own foolishness, Corona looked up from under her bangs. “Please don’t tell on me. You didn’t sneer or spit at me when you saw my wings, so I assume you don’t care about the fact that I’m a Faunus, but I barely got this job because of what I am. If I make even one single mistake, I could lose it, and…”

 

Qrow pat her on the shoulder gently. “Like hell I’d tattle on you, kiddo. You helped me find Jimmy, and that’s a huge favor in and of itself. And I enjoy sticking it to the man, especially when the man is an idiot for not seeing how amazing you are.” That made Corona giggle.

 

“Thanks, Mr. Qrow,” she said sincerely, wings spread out proudly.

 

“Please, it’s just Qrow,” he insisted. “Mr. Qrow makes me sound like I’m old.” She gave him a funny look, but didn’t say anything.

 

When they reached their floor, Qrow tried not to show how eager he was to get out of the small box of death. He followed the Faunus down a near empty corridor until they reached a door with a digital plaque, the words making Qrow’s heart clench: _James Ironwood_. The door was closed, preventing the huntsman from seeing the sort of state the love of his life was in. He was flying through the moment Corona opened the door, making her squeak in surprise as Qrow rushed to James’ side and took his hand.

 

James was completely unconscious, the rising and falling of his chest and steady beeping of the heart monitor the only sign that the stock-still man was even alive. Qrow was amazed by the new cybernetics—obviously the latest model, only the best for his James. The metal was sleek and smooth, a lighter shade of silver that gleamed in the light of the room. There were transparent, glowing lights on some of the plates, probably to allow easier access for repairs. After squeezing James’ hand, Qrow saw the right arm twitch, the motion already noticeably smoother than it would have been with the old model; Qrow was willing to bet it was made of far lighter materials.

 

“You see?” Corona said cheerily. “He’s fine, just needs some time to recuperate. He’s been in and out of consciousness for the past week to recover, and still will be until we take him off the morphine, so he’ll be extremely loopy when he does come out of it. But we are taking him off soon—tomorrow in fact!—so he should be back up and talking in no time. And then he’ll be left with a few weeks of physical therapy, but he’ll be able to spend most of his time at home. With you~!” This last part she cooed out, little wings flapping adorably.

 

“Oh, hush you,” Qrow told her with a smile. As she giggled behind him, Qrow reached up to brush a hair that had come loose on James’ head. When he removed his hand, those bright blue eyes were wide open and dilated.

 

“Qrow!” James slurred out, widely beaming at the sight of the huntsman. Grinning, Qrow leaned in and kissed James’ forehead, laughing when his flesh hand held Qrow in place to allow him to nuzzle Qrow’s neck. “I looovve you.”

 

Qrow gave a pleased hum, running a hand through James’ ever-soft black hair. “Love you too, Jimmy.” When James giggled drunkenly at the words, Qrow knew that this was going to be hilarious.

 

“Ohmygosh, Qrow!” James suddenly started, pulling back to look at the huntsman. “I got a peeeenis!” Another series of giggles as Qrow’s cheeks became red as rubies. “That’s such a funny word. It's so cool, wanna see it?”

 

“Oh dear,” Corona said in embarrassment, her own face akin to a blood moon under all that hair. “I—I think I'm going to go now. Bye!” And with that, she turned on her heel and left, wings and shoulders shaking violently as she tried to contain her own laughter.

 

Shaking his head, Qrow returned his focus on his drugged lover. “No, Jimmy, I don’t want to see your penis.” And such a ridiculous statement really shouldn't earn him a kicker-puppy look from the leader of Atlas’ academy and military. “And I thought you said you didn't want to upgrade, especially for one measly part.”

 

James nuzzled into Qrow again, previous displeasure already forgotten. “I don't _need_ it, I _want_ it!” he swooned. “I want to make loooove to you.” And yes, Qrow was totally going to tease James about all of this later.

 

“But you know I was fine with what we had though, right? Like I said when we first started: I don't need it,” Qrow said tenderly, leaning in to kiss James’ forehead again. “I just need you.”

 

James preened at the words, smiling wide and puffing his chest out proudly. “Dawwww, you're so sweet! You're the best boyfriend ever.”

 

His prosthetic hand twitched on the bed, obviously wanting to touch Qrow but unable until James grew used to the new sensations. Pouting like a spoiled child, James tried again, getting a little higher off the medical bed before it fell back down. And then, to Qrow’s utter amusement, James stuck his tongue out at his own arm and muttered “meanie.”

 

Qrow was just barely able to hold back his laughter as he reached over and brought the limp metal limb up to his lips. “You'll master it in time, Jim,” he assured. “You're certainly stubborn enough to not let something so simple stop you.” Qrow squeezed the hand comfortingly.

 

The action pulled a gasp out of James, eyes widening to near cartoonish size. “Do that again!” he mock whispered. One small chuckle escaped Qrow’s mouth before he was able to reel himself back in, but he complied with the request, earning another childish gasp of fascination. “Ohmygosh! Qrow, I can feel it!”

 

Qrow’s laughter subsided at that, his gleeful delight softening into something warmer in his chest. “Yes, yes you can,” he agreed with a shaky voice, so unbelievably happy for James.

 

After a few moments of more excited grown man giggles, James gave a large yawn. He swerved over to settle his head on Qrow’s shoulder. “Qrow, I’m tired…” he whined into the section of Qrow’s cape that was clipped under the huntsman’s collar.

 

Surprised only by the fact that James had lasted this long, Qrow brushed the other man’s hair back into its regular bedhead. “I know, Jim, and its ok; I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

 

Humming blissfully, James cuddled closer, pleased even further when Qrow crawled onto the bed and tucked his head under James’ chin. “I love you,” James repeated quietly into Qrow’s hair, already succumbing to the effects of the drug. “I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

 

That revelation made Qrow’s eyebrow’s shoot up. “Do…do you really mean that, Jim?” Qrow asked into his lover’s neck.

 

Silence was his only answer. “James?”

 

A snort was his only answer, the sound making Qrow grin. Despite having one synthetic lung, James was one of the loudest snorers that Qrow had ever met. He would just have to wait for when the drugs wore off for them to finish that little conversation.

 

Hearing the steady heartbeat pounding in James’ chest and echoed by the heart monitor, Qrow thought how easy patience was to find when sleep was easy coming…

 

*~*~*

 

James woke up to an unfamiliar sound.

 

He huffed in annoyance, burying himself further in Qrow’s hair, the familiar scent of his lover calming him for a few more moments. But the incessant beeping persisted, so he tried reaching for the snooze on the scroll he kept on his side of the bed.

 

Only to find his right arm wasn’t moving.

_That_ brought the familiar strain of panic forth. James shot his eyes open and jerked on the bed, making Qrow grumble and tighten his hold on his boyfriend. James froze where he lay, looking down at his unfamiliar arm and the beeping in his ears matching the beating of his heart, for a moment thrown back several years back to a frighteningly similar moment.

 

Qrow’s weight and warmth at his side resettled him, bringing him back to the present and slowly calming him back down. James sighed in relief, running his left hand down the huntsman’s back and concentrating on the soothing sound of Qrow’s quiet breathing rather than the damn heart monitor. The motions always made Qrow practically purr, smiling sleepily against James’s collarbone, bringing a smile to James’ face as well. His huntsman always had been very vocal when receiving touches of affection, even in his sleep, and each little sound just made James’ heart fall for the man even further.

 

He didn’t know how long the two of them just sat there, basking in each other’s company, how long until James noticed Qrow’s breathing become less steady and more awake. Eventually their stillness was broken as Qrow lifted himself off James’ chest to stretch and pop his cramped body.

 

“So,” Qrow drawled out, voice strained from stretching. He looked pointedly at the new glowing prosthesis. “Gotta say, Jim, that's one hell of a surprise.”

 

James laughed nervously at that. “Yeah, well I—” He coughed to buy time and clear his thoughts. “I didn't exactly expect you to come back so early.”

 

Qrow just chuckled, leaning in for a kiss. “Don't worry, I like it!” And to prove his point, Qrow took James’ steel hand in his and squeezed, drawing out a startled gasp from James. “You're finally taking care of yourself, giving yourself something you wanted but thought you didn't deserve to have. How can I not love you for loving yourself?”

 

James only partially heard the words, staring down at where Qrow was still holding his motionless hand. Dear god, he could—he could feel that! He could feel the warmth of Qrow’s hand, the hard callouses from where he held his sword or scythe as it slid against the metal of James’ palm. And when Qrow was done with his talk and lifted the prosthetic up to kiss the fingers like a gentleman, James couldn't help but shiver at the hot, wet touch of his lips.

 

Concentrating, James tried to see if he could feel any other sensations he had long ago giving up ever hoping to feel on his right side ever again. The sheets were warm and soft, and while it felt odd when he managed to twitch his leg and have the fabric catch on his joints rather than leg hair, the very touch was miraculous in and of itself. The ties at the back of his gown were digging into his back, and yet there was no pain—every model after a few years ago, including the ones he had chosen, didn’t transfer pain to his brain unless something was wrong or out of alignment. He was aware of the heat coming off Qrow’s body, the pressure of his torso on James’ hip. The sliding of cold fluid down his chest as the tears finally spilled over.

 

When Qrow took his head in his other hand to look James in the eye, all James could say to that scraggly, pinched brow face he had come to love, all James could say was “Qrow…”

 

And no further explanation was needed, the huntsman holding James close as he sobbed, releasing all the relief, joy, sadness, and anger that he had been smothering for far too long. “That's it, that's it,” was all Qrow said to him, rubbing his back and head soothingly as James cried. “Let it all out, James. I'm here for you, I'll _always_ be here.”

 

James continued to weep into Qrow’s neck, the feeling of those warm, strong arms wrapped around him and rubbing all the doubts and insecurities away for a while nearly overwhelming. Qrow held him until there were no more tears left to shed, until his weeping was left to nothing more than mere sniffles. When there was nearly no tears left to shed, James took in a shaky breath and brought his one working arm up to hug Qrow back.

 

“There,” Qrow said softly, pulling away just enough to look James in the eye. He wiped away the tears still on his lover’s cheeks. “Are you feeling better now, Jimboree?”

 

James laughed at that. “Yeah,” he answered, voice weak from all the crying. He sniffed, managing to pull his lips into a genuine smile. “I’m sorry, I’m just…really, really happy.”

 

“Don’t apologize,” Qrow ordered gently. “That was a long time coming.” He planted a kiss to James’ forehead. “And you deserve to be happy, my Jimmy.”

 

They were silent for a moment, nothing but the sound of their own breathing and the heart monitor meeting their ears. Then, a giant, sadistic smirk alighted Qrow’s lips. “So…” he drawled out teasingly. “Do I see your penis now, or later?”

 

James was about to ask the huntsman what he was talking about, but then he remembered. He groaned into Qrow’s shoulder. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I said that.”

 

Qrow snickered, petting James’ black hair. “In front of the nurse too! Poor girl, I think we scarred her for life.”

 

James only moaned louder. “I said that in front of Corona? Oh god, she and her sibling won’t let me live it down.”

 

“Wait, you know her?” Qrow asked, pausing from his entertainment. “You know her sibling? You know she _has_ a sibling?”

 

James could only chuckle at Qrow’s confusion. “I’ve been coming to this hospital for years, and her brother was a student of mine once,” he explained quickly. “I’ll tell you later—probably after I apologize and pay for her student loans or something.”

 

“Dawwww!” Qrow cooed. “You’re the sweetest. Best boyfriend ever!”

 

That had James groaning again. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

 

“Nope!” Qrow confirmed, popping the “p” at the end. “Not for the next month or two at least.”

 

“Oh, and here I thought I wasn’t getting off easy,” James deadpanned.

 

The both laughed, James’ right hand twitching where it lay on the bed from wanting to entwine his fingers with Qrow’s. Luckily Qrow knew him well enough to predict his movements, lacing their hands together for his boyfriend and smiling fondly. His garnet eyes were soft and full of an indescribable emotion when he looked at James, far too powerful to be called mere love. It made James breath and heart stutter for a moment, something that reflected on the heart monitor, the skip making Qrow smile brightly.

 

James was thoroughly disappointed when that smile quickly faded into something else, something nervous, almost…scared.

 

“Hey, James?” Qrow said quietly, and the use of the general’s full name rather than a nickname immediately frightened James. “What…what do you remember? From when you were out of it?”

 

“Uh…not much? They need to pump me full of a lot of morphine after such a big surgery, I’m sure I was worse the first time—” _The first time they had to replace my limbs with scraps of metal,_ he wanted to say, but choked on the words. “—the first time,” he said instead.

 

Qrow nodded in understanding. He tightened his fingers around James’, almost as if he was afraid he was going to lose his hold of the cold metal. “Do you…do you recall saying anything to me? About how…you’ve loved me? Since the day we met?”

 

James felt all three of his eyebrows shoot up into his hair. “No, why would I—I don’t—” he shook his head, sorting the words and thoughts out in his head. It had been something James had been thinking about for a while now, something he’d been planning to talk to Qrow about. “It shouldn’t make sense…but it doesn’t sound wrong,” he finally admitted sheepishly.

 

“Really?” Qrow asked in disbelief, even as his grip on James relaxed. “Even after…after everything I said that day, everything I’d done just to piss you off?”

 

“That’s the thing,” James said hurriedly, already sensing Qrow’s own doubts trying to take hold. “After the accident—hell, even before—I had heard worse insults, had been called cold, heartless, and nothing more than another Atlas mech. I learned pretty early on not to let it get to me, and after the accident…” He inhaled deeply and concentrated, focusing on the hand Qrow still held. The fingers twitched for a few moments, then bowed to James’ will, tightening and returning Qrow’s hold for a few precious seconds before falling limp again. “It got easier to ignore them—or should I say, I started to believe them. I wore them like a suit of armor, an armor that grew heavier and thicker with each passing year. And then you came along, and pierced through all of it.”

 

James tried tugging Qrow closer, but his new prosthetic wouldn’t obey for more than a few moments. Again Qrow knew exactly what he wanted to do, though, pressing his body to James’ while still keeping their hands together. “I’ve been asking myself lately: why would I do that? How could I let you dig into me so easily?”

 

“I don’t know, ‘sex robot’ is a pretty creative insult,” Qrow cut in, trying to defuse the situation with humor. It certainly worked, getting a laugh out of James. “But…I don’t know why I said that stupid shit either. I wanted so bad to get a reaction out of you, any kind that I could. But after I said those things…after I saw how much they hurt you, I realized how much I _didn’t_ want a bad reaction. And after that night you helped me back in Atlas…I found I only wanted to see you smile, to see you laugh. I didn’t get to really see it until Vacuo, though. And when I saw it once, I realized I needed more of it.”

 

Realizing how his words sounded, Qrow buried his blushing face into James’ chest. The general simply ran a hand through Qrow’s wild locks, silently asking him to continue. “I thought it was then that I fell in love with you, but then when you were all loony…I wouldn’t call it love, but I know I’ve been attracted to you since the moment I saw you; I just didn’t know how much until I saw you look at me…like I was a monster.”

 

James’ breath caught in his throat, flesh hand pulling Qrow closer. “You’re not a monster, and I never thought that, even when you were calling me the least-creative insults I’d ever heard,” James tried to comfort. “I love you, always will—and apparently I always have.”

 

“Yeah, we’re pretty much idiots when it comes to our own emotions, aren’t we?” Qrow said with a chuckle. James gave his own snicker of agreement, kissing the top of his lover’s forehead as Qrow had done so many times before. “Makes me glad Ozpin called me that day at Shade. I never would have figured out my own feelings if he hadn’t told me to go find you.”

 

James stiffened. “Wait,” he said, pushing Qrow off just a little bit. “Ozpin called you to come fix me?”

 

“Yeah, I thought I told you that.”

 

Thinking hard, James actually could recall Qrow mentioning Ozpin telling him something about his malfunctioning prosthesis, being afraid his fellow headmaster had told Qrow just a little too much for comfort. “I forgot,” he admitted. “It’s just—I remember Ozpin calling _me_ to come find you the night I found you in Atlas.”

 

Qrow blinked at him in surprise. Then he squinted suspiciously. “You don’t think…”

 

“That that old pervert played matchmaker? Yes, actually I do.”

 

Qrow gave him a loud, cawing laugh. “Damn, Jimmy, mouthing off at your superiors behind their backs? I’m rubbing off on you.”

 

Qrow lay back down on James’ broad chest, bringing the prosthetic hand he still held closer to his chest. “In all the best ways, my Qrow,” James said quietly. He placed another kiss to Qrow’s forehead. “In all the best ways.”

 

In a few hours, Corona would come back in and try to hurry Qrow out so that the doctors wouldn’t catch them together, then hurry back out to delay the doctor and buy them some time. She would then come right back in, wondering where on earth the caped huntsman had gone and why the window was open.

 

In a few days, James would be released from the hospital, returning five times a week for the next month for physical therapy to become more acquainted with his new prosthetics. He would return home each time to Qrow’s smile and laugh, and at one point to a nearly burnt down kitchen when his boyfriend had thought it a wonderful idea to try and cook something that was, in Qrow’s words, a “stupidly fancy and overcomplicated, barely a mouthful piece of crap meal.”

 

But that was in their future. For the time being, they simply lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms and love, and prepared for anything the future could throw at them.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are Love!


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